Adventure Magazine Cover, October 30, 1924 — page 172: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

162 ’ said the non- “After ammunition, sir,’ com driven to prevarication. ‘“‘Who’s the missing man?” demanded old Birdseed. The non-com instructor looked at the school C. O., who had dashed up at that moment. The school C. O. looked blank. “The man’s name—l insist,”’ raged old Birdseed. The non-com spoke up: _ “Private Tobin, sir. Of the mth battal- ion, sir. A headquarters scout and sniper, sir.”” “Ah?” Old Birdseed’s ears had pricked up. “A sniper, you say? Interesting. A crack shot, I presume. Splendid! Here— Jamieson.” Jamieson, a dashing young galloper in pale puttees and flaring breeches, sprang forward and assisted the old man in divesting him- self of Sam Browne and tunic. He even went so far as to roll up the Brigadier’s sleeves for him. “Nicely, Jamieson,” purred old Birdseed contentedly. ‘“‘Now, bring me a rifle.” The group of spectators looked on as the brigadier peered approvingly down the barrel of the Enfield. “Takes me back,” he enthused, “‘to the old Bisley days when I was runner-up for the Queen’s.”’ More peering and bolt-working. “Two clips, Jamieson.”’ The cartridges were turned over. “Now,” said old Birdseed, chuckling to himself, ‘“‘we’ll wait for this sniper fellow. It will be a pleasure for me to match my skill against his and—beat him.”’ They hadn’t long to wait. Down at the road, at the estaminet, a door slammed harshly. Tub Tobin was outside again— thrown out apparently, for the group on the firing mound saw him pick himself up from the dust, shake himself like a St. Bernard, get his bearings and stumble their way. He came like the frog of the “frog and well” problem—falling back a step for every two he took. Eventually he dragged himself up, singing— “Every little girl can teach me somethin’ new.” “T see,”’ said young Jamieson, who would have his thrust, “‘that the ammunition cart is up—and loaded, too. Shall I put the ‘binge’ under arrest, general?” Adventure “‘“Binge’?”’? questioned Tobin. “T ain’t no such animal.” “Silence!” thundered old Birdseed. down, fellow.” Tobin sat down hard, trying to clear the fog from his vision. Whew! That had been some ‘stick’ that dame had stuck in his beer. Old Birdseed was saying: ‘This chap is entitled to some considera- tion, Jamieson. If he’s the man I think him to be.” Wherewith he told the story of a man who’d taken more rum than was good for him one winter morning and had gone over and clouted a German post in front of Avion, bringing back identification badly wanted at the time. Now, Tub Tobin had never been on the Avion front in his life, but when Jamieson’s polished boot dug him in the ribs and that swanker asked: ‘‘Are you the same chap?” his lips fashioned a “Yesshir.”’ Growing bolder, he added— “Vesshir! Shot four hunsh—in four shotsh.” ‘“‘Ah?” old Birdseed interposed. ‘‘Good shooting, my man.”’ Aside, he said: “You never can tell, gentlemen, from appearances, just how clever a man is.” Tub Tobin, goggle-eyed, knees knocking, arose. He looked a wreck. He looked as though Cow Alley and the chalk pit weren’t the only places where a war was on. Deliberately—quite impertinently he winked at young Jamieson who threw a fit and appealed to the brigadier. “But, general,” he said, ‘‘you’re not going to stand for such insolence, are you?” Old Birdseed replied: ‘“‘Why, he’s not worrying me any. We'll see just how ‘binged’ he is.”’ Confusedly, Tub Tobin drank in the brigadier’s challenge— “Ten shots at five hundred—and may the best man win.” “An’ the besh man will win,” grinned Tobin. ‘‘ Cause I’m the besh man.”’ “That remains to be seen,” contradicted old Birdseed, flopping on his tummy. Legs angled off, he took innumerable sighting pots at imaginary heinies in the valley bottom. Then he shot a cartridge into the chamber of his rifle and got down to serious business, humping himself up like a speared frog with every pull of the triggér. But his sight was still keen and his breathing “Sit CoOMmiclbooks nn